GUENDOLEN. Mildly?

TRESHAM. Ah, you guessed aright!
I am not well: there is no hiding it.
But tell her I would see her at her leisure--
That is, at once! here in the library!
The passage in that old Italian book
We hunted for so long is found, say, found--
And if I let it slip again... you see,
That she must come--and instantly!

GUENDOLEN. I'll die
Piecemeal, record that, if there have not gloomed
Some blot i' the 'scutcheon!

TRESHAM. Go! or, Guendolen,
Be you at call,--With Austin, if you choose,--
In the adjoining gallery! There go!
[GUENDOLEN goes.]
Another lesson to me! You might bid
A child disguise his heart's sore, and conduct
Some sly investigation point by point
With a smooth brow, as well as bid me catch
The inquisitorial cleverness some praise.
If you had told me yesterday, "There's one
You needs must circumvent and practise with,
Entrap by policies, if you would worm
The truth out: and that one is--Mildred!" There,
There--reasoning is thrown away on it!
Prove she's unchaste... why, you may after prove